That is what I was thinking at about 3pm yesterday as Matthew raced across the field in my daughter's school sports day. I had in a fit of bad judgement allowed him to escape the confines of his pushchair due to the screams getting louder and shriller. There was only a presentation to go, what harm could it do?
Very bad idea. He decided to race behind the headteacher and then realising perhaps he was out of reach and a bit lonely he came back. Pacified for all of ten seconds with what must have been the twentieth gingerbread man of the day he then wandered off to find his sister. Luckily he had a partner in crime but that did not lessen the cringe factor when I noticed that having located his sister he had run off again, she was chasing him, and she was being chased by her teacher. Having offloading Lucy, whom I was feeding to another mum I mustered as much height as I could manage to go and collect my wayward son, trying my hardest not to yank his arm off as I had to parade him back past all the immaculate yummy mummies, whose toddlers were in situ sitting angelically and not screaming, oh the shame. Despite the fees if he gets in to the school next year it will be a small miracle!
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